Qi Jingming knew that welcoming a “true young master” back home would inevitably deal a heavy blow to Qi Xiuyi’s psyche.

From the moment he signed the contract, he believed he had steeled himself.

Yet when he actually witnessed Qi Xiuyi’s heartbreak and breakdown, regret and doubt still crashed uncontrollably through his chest.

…Could this 30-million “firm” be a high-end version of an internet-addiction boot camp?

With that faint unease and suspicion, Qi Jingming instructed his aide to keep the home surveillance on 24/7 and inform him immediately if anything—anything at all—happened.

Fortunately, aside from the morning encounter, the two young masters—real and fake—each stayed in their rooms.

One busy and diligent, the other sulking and emo. No second collision occurred.

Toward evening, Qi Jingming called the butler.

After hearing the day’s report on the new young master, he gave a small nod.

Active, diligent, highly cooperative—finished memorizing the entire “Qi Family Essentials: What Every Member Must Know and Do” in half a day, demonstrating the work ethic expected for a 30-million annual salary.

Then he listened to the report on the “biological” young master, and a headache began to buzz in his skull.

Hunger strike, self-isolation, smashing and cursing non-stop inside the room—didn’t stop for a single moment.

Qi Jingming: …

Thirty million—some money really is worth spending.

Pressing his fingers to his temples, he said, “All right. For any upcoming gatherings or banquets, have Wen Dong attend. Let him get to know the capital’s circle as soon as possible—prepare all relevant dossiers in advance…”

“Keep tabs on his performance at these events. Whether good or bad, report to me promptly… No, I have separate arrangements for tutors… Mm, I’ll wait for your updates.”

Click.

He hung up.

Qi Jingming let out a long sigh.

His aide set a fresh cup of tea by his hand and murmured by his ear, “Sir, as you expected, there has been no instance in the last 36 years of any major family recognizing a bloodline, only to reverse it the following year.”

Qi Jingming: “Oh, so he isn’t paying back 12 years in hell—he borrowed all 36 in one go.”

He took a sip, sighed, and concluded, “See? The bolder the person, the bigger the grift. Dared to make me their grand opening test client. No wonder they can land a 30-million contract.”

Aide: “Quite so.”

Qi Jingming: “Since the son is working this hard, I, as the father, can’t lag behind. Go, pull some overtime and push the team to firm up the evidence that the paternity report was falsified. It’s only 30 million, yes—but if he’s running an effects scam, or if Xiuyi really can’t withstand his ‘treatment’…”

Qi Jingming: “Heh. We can’t just let him walk off with 30 million that easily, can we?”

…

Lin Chen had no idea how closely he was being watched by the “boss.”

He spent the entire day trailing after the butler around the house.

Learning routes, names, procedures—he didn’t get a moment’s rest.

When they finally finished the grand tour and returned to his room, the butler shoved a tome at him—“Qi Family Essentials: What Every Member Must Know and Do”—and urged him to study it carefully.

Lin Chen, eager, hoped it would help him get up to speed in his “young master” role.

Then he opened it:

“When visiting family-owned businesses and preferring to remain anonymous, how should expenses be recorded?” — p.1

“If you happen to break the law in the wild, how do you swiftly sever ties with the Qi family to avoid bringing disaster upon it?” — p.3

“If held hostage while alone, how do you conceal your identity to prevent the criminals from escalating demands?” — p.4

“If identity is exposed while held hostage, how do you handle financial extortion?” — p.7

“…”

Lin Chen flipped through, impressed: “Oh, practical people.”

He promptly tossed the book to the system to chew on at random.

Beyond Qi-related info, Lin Chen also needed to research the original novel and the original host’s past.

Studying the novel would take time, so he started with the host’s background.

Lin Chen: “Summarize the original host’s past in under 1,000 words.”

Soon after, he stared at the system’s summary in silence:

A gambling father, a dead mother, a sick younger brother, and a broken self.

A monthly salary of 2,000—half wired to his father, 500 to his brother, the remaining 500 plus odd-job earnings barely covering rent and food, with a little saved since his school days—yet after years of scraping, it never even broke five figures.

Lin Chen’s verdict: “No wonder he ‘slipped up’ after losing his job in every timeline.”

System, puzzled: “What does that have to do with it, Host?”

Lin Chen, coolly: “He’s supporting both the old and the young on that tiny paycheck. One layoff and the whole family goes under. If he didn’t snap, who would?”

He sighed. “Employment is the foundation of social stability, after all.”

The original family ties weren’t too tight, thankfully.

He sent money monthly but rarely met them.

A poor relationship with his father, distant with his brother.

Besides the monthly transfers, there was little to no interaction.

Once the system confirmed that the original host had died of overwork a second before Lin Chen transmigrated—with no chance of the soul returning—Lin Chen decisively canceled all phone and social accounts, preserving only a copy of the data in the system database.

Clean cut, without a trace.

Lin Chen sneered: “They want me to shoulder his burdens for free? Not happening.”

But after doing all that, he asked the system, confused: “Since the original host died, there’s no more ‘bane-to-protagonist’ effect. Why bring me in at all?”

The system, mournful: “Based on my observations, once the original host dies unexpectedly, the ‘bane-to-protagonist’ attribute randomly transfers to another passerby!”

System: “Host, do you know what it’s like to search for a needle in a haystack? Without the original host, I’d have to… have to… boohoohoo…” It broke into aggrieved sobs.

Lin Chen: “…”

Expressionless: “This crucial info—you couldn’t tell me before I canceled everything?”

The system was bewildered, not knowing why he said that.

Lin Chen, still flat: “I canceled the number, the chat apps; how are future would-be assassins supposed to reach me to hire me to off the protagonist? If they can’t reach me, won’t they just pick random people off the street?”

The system crackled in alarm. “N-no, Host—each ‘slip-up’ by the original host really was a ‘slip-up’…!”

Lin Chen, level 3 deadpan: “Be honest. What did you preload in your database?”

System eagerly: “GreenRiver novels! I’m a story-route maintenance system by GreenRiver Group. The novel world you’re in, ‘Fake Young Master’s Noble Revenge Diary,’ is a male-protagonist power fantasy by famed GreenRiver author ‘Auto-Typer Keyboard,’ published in the No-CP channel!”

Lin Chen’s flat look softened with sudden clarity: “Ah, so you’re a GreenRiver pureblood system. No wonder you’re so upright, proper, clear-eyed, and wholesome.”

The system proudly popped confetti.

Curious, Lin Chen asked, “When you look at me, you can see below my neck, right?”

The system flushed. “H-Host, how could you slander me like that! I’m the newest, most advanced AC-series in the GreenRiver Group!”

Lin Chen exhaled in relief. “So the rumors are fake. I thought GreenRiver organisms really were all just heads.”

The system hesitated. “So Host, now that we’ve canceled everything, in the future, wouldn’t—”

Knock, knock.

The conversation was interrupted.

Lin Chen looked up. “Come in.”

The door opened; the butler stood respectfully at the threshold. “Young Master, the Li family’s young master returns tomorrow and plans to host a networking luncheon the day after—about a hundred attendees. The Qi family seldom misses such events, but it’s inconvenient for Young Master Xiuyi to attend this time. Would you…”

Lin Chen’s expression didn’t change. “You want me to go?”

The young butler brightened. “If you can attend, that would be ideal!”

He produced a thick stack of dossiers with a kindly smile. “Please have a look, Young Master. These are the peers and family decision-makers in the capital whom you may need to engage with.”

Lin Chen glanced coolly at the thickness. “Might as well be the city’s census.”

Still smiling, the butler said, “If you can memorize all of these before the luncheon, I’m sure you’ll glide through the event like a fish in water!”

Lin Chen, wooden: “I’m not a fish. No need. Thank you.”

That said, he still took the files.

He sighed and pinged the system: “Quantum-wave speed-reading, please.”

The system was delighted to be useful: “Scanning—complete—data added—saved—all done~!”

Lin Chen: “Good. Now be silent for three hours. I’m going to memorize.”

The system was baffled. “But I’ve stored it for you—why memorize it yourself?”

Lin Chen sighed. “If I rely entirely on your database, what do you think my interactions with these young masters will look like?”

The system blinked. “What would they look like?”

“Like someone who’s never dealt with people—just like you.”

“…”

“Wow!” the system gasped. “You’re amazing, Host. You even saw I’ve never manifested to interact with humans before you!”

“Heh. Lucky for you your Host is me. With anyone else, I’d be telling you to download an anti-fraud app immediately.”

The day flew by.

On the eve of the event, at exactly 10 p.m., Lin Chen finally put down the files.

Every page from first to last was covered in circles and ticks.

He let out a long breath, closed his bloodshot eyes, and leaned back against the headboard for a brief rest.

The system, heart aching, blurted, “Host, being a young master is way harder than washing dishes!”

Lin Chen’s eyes flew open. “You just reminded me—I forgot to resign!”

The system muttered, “You should learn from Qi Xiuyi. Look how carefree and happy his young master life is.”

“And then get replaced by the ‘real’ young master?” Lin Chen countered.

The system murmured, “But whether you memorize or not, you’ll still be a young master for a year—what’s the difference… um, better to use the database!”

Lin Chen’s sneer was audible. “Spoken like someone who’s never topped sales. Lie down.”

AC-9999 puffed up, wounded. “Now you’re score-shaming me! I—I may never have been top of all systems, but I do consistently rank in the top 70%! That’s pretty great!”

“Congratulations,” Lin Chen said. “You’ve successfully surpassed 30% of systems worldwide. Keep it up.”

The system pondered. “But why must we attend this banquet? Isn’t transforming Qi Xiuyi enough?”

“Heh. Foolish.” Lin Chen’s tone was dry. “As the real Qi young master, we must shoulder all his duties. The contract spelled it out clearly: if the Qi family’s reputation is harmed, Party A can terminate and withhold remaining payment.”

At the words “terminate contract” = “unemployment,” the system shrieked, “Attend! Attend! You must attend!”

“Also—do you know what reshapes a person the fastest?” Lin Chen asked.

“Electroshock!” the system answered instantly.

“Wrong. Zero points.”

“The answer is—hate.”

“Love blinds the eyes; hate blinds the heart.”

“As a transmigration system, haven’t you read the stories where the protagonist turns gray overnight from hatred—and awakens overnight from it?”

“Next question: how do you make someone hate you quickly?”

The system jumped in, delighted: “I know! Kill their father, steal their spouse, betray them, fight over wealth!”

“Take what they love,” Lin Chen concluded.

He slid his fingers lightly against the bed.

“What does Qi Xiuyi love?”

“Money, treasures, kin, friends. These four.”

“Funds frozen, treasures confiscated, kin taken—only friends remain.”

Softly, he said, “So tomorrow, we will—take his friends.”